Sinic fights teh eggnims
by salemastur
Summary: sinic end pels tri 2 step eggnims babes
1. Chapturz wan 2 tre

chaptur: XXXXIVCM + 34 = IV

one day sonic was walking along but then all of a sudden a giant airplane flew out of the ground and he was all "ldkfchmaghcofrgh!111!1!1" and then he blew the shit up and oh my god xpplosion eveyrywhere and oh no gah my balls hurt oh no why did you kick them steve oh lord dicks I need a bandaid oh shit they are blleding and fkdhfkasdhgkhsg hrkgheklhlskdhf ceir cock

in the next paragraph wer see amy shes pretty hot today with her doubl g breasts cups and her pussy was mega wet from the friction betwen her legs and stuff my lord is my anger rising sayed sonic looking at her fat bewbs 'ur so hot amiee' he said but then he looked down and he saw her massive CANKLES1111111111!111!11!111!1! OH MY GOD THEY WERE HUGE SONIC SAID IN A LOUD SOUND

amiee throw him to the ground he he tried to sturggled but she put him ina sizcor leg lock between her massive cankles and squezed the fight out of him oh no shouted sonci i am going to die no your arent goign to die amiee say i am going to make you rape me

oh no i dont want to rape you i dont want to caus truble wiht the police oh no augh but before he coud continue she shofed her meega loarge cock into his mouff and he betcame to scream rel loudly but it wuz muffld becuz the cock was in his moth

oh no sinic i am going to cuum she said ah and she pulled out and seminy lickiasudas got all ovur sonics fac and he was screaming becauz it wuding stop oh no stop aughhh skfhal ples stop osjf but it was too late becuyz it already entyers his vagine threw the insider and impreganted with wiht cankle babez ah my god sinic shouted plz stop i am gin die becuase i has no vagine and the baby cannet escep but it wuz to late and sinic diyed becuz he brew up

chapter; 5647 iz a fnni # lol

sinci wuz ded but amiee was stil horne and neede some1 to fuck over lol

tails walked by and he was all omg wtf sinic u ded but aimee loled and was all rap me ales and she grabd hiz vagine and shovd hur hend in it but lol sinic wuznt ded and he tok hes manvagine end likd it hurd aimee wuz stil ging strung wen robutnsihasoc ssdjiasjd came al ovur hur fac lol nd sinic wuz abut too du stuf but den eggnim whipd out hus massve cock nd slapd sinic wiff it nd he brew up agen lol

chaptur~ duh i furget lol

eggnim brew uh da wrald

dur ind


	2. Chaptur fore

ceptur BB907

Sonic wok up n sew dat da wurd brew uph bt he wernt imprussd by eggnims pren. plz sinic u ned 2 halep me i em lots auhfhdejfhskf shutded a voc fmiler 2 sinic it wuz ales he wuz skard byund hel oh no sinic heap me i em gin be aten by teh megek flug

but ti wuz a trik!11!11! sinic brew up nd ales scremed soundleee in teh nigth omg no sayed aimee woos cock wuz meega hurd nd hur brests weer dripeng milk al ovur

omgomgomgomgomgomg but den jus as he begun criii his def systir omg sinic healp meh i um ding nd bing repd beh eggnims ausfuifgcdfgcvk asgfuvk but ti weer to lete nd hes systir hed eggnim babeys hehehehehehehe sayed eggnims babyes end dey wuz al bom dom stuf end omg no seys amiee but iw wear to leta nd shi ded

!111!1!1!111

sayed sinic bt ut wuz to leta end he ded tu

ind erf chaptur BB907 


	3. ceptur fevior

Omg liek diks cheptur intredukes me fannnnnnnnnnnnnn cheactur omgomg hes ubar kool end stuf BUTTTT HES STR8 OKEY EIEI DONEUTN WENT ENY PPPLS SEYENG ODERWIZWREE

chepter ~ sdfnklaejhnvrkj (!5!)

Tude sinic wuz werkeng wif hes burst broskeee, Krif der hedghoog. Krif wuz weereng a lethur jeket end no pantz. He werz da coler liek da wan on teh creyon (macorini end cheeeze), end hes speks weant al ovur 2 da sidz end stuf, iets supur kool guyz, tretsr mee.

womg sinic wut shiud; we du lol krif sayed wif a smiled sinic dont repli hei 2 busi geveng eggnim hed lol

kriof wuz al engri end stuf becuz liek sinic wuz suppersued too geve im hed butttt he sayed nuuuu becuz he wuz a hugu end krif dedint liek FAGETZ evun dou hei wuz a hugy flemeng wan lol

sinic omg y u cheteng onnnnn meeewe i em ur boifrend krif cryd da teers were freing dun hes fece

i sirrreeieee kriff sinic seyed bet i ned 2 suk of eggnims lol 2 feeeeeeeeeee my he shutd

omg krif seyed i cen sev hur end he ded a HHHHHUUUUUUUUUUGUUUUUUUU frip end a sommmenrsaultewr end he rended al ovur de aer end stuf der he serwed sinic sesssssturrr omg he seyed der he seeeeed sinic sestur beng RAEPD BY EGGNIM BABEYS OMG HE SEYED BERT TOO LETA

DRMMMMMMMMMMMMS BEGUT PLEYUIGBSDSNG END SINICS SESTURRRRRRR WUZ TKING ET UHHHHP DER OMG CAPSLok wuz on 

enywut lrif fluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuw uhp relly hig in saer aer end omkgggg ded sum fllllllllllllllllllepps end ded liek fluw end stuf end omg he kild wan of de eggnim babeys end de rust rund awueyd

omg dants klif sinics sestur seyed omg ur so cuet end heur kisd hem lol 


	4. Chapter: Clusterfuck

Chapter: Clusterfuck

sonic woke the next day to find his brothers guts stained upon the wall his sister crying in agony as she witnessed the terrible sight sonic what do we do she moaned roger is dead and i am pregnant with eggmans child oh brother said sonic this is truly a nightmare only the deamons from hell could cause such terror he began to apply black lipstick and eyeliner just as his emo goth sex slave and best friend crif appeared in the doorway i heard what happened crif muttered softly acting badass like a faggot oh crif you are so amazing cried sonics sister who was hugging crif tightly his penis was erect and it prodded her vaginal wall no not yet crif i am not ready plus i am pregnant with eggmans babies already do not cry sonics sistur i still love you even though you have been raped thats how you know i am a good guy and not a douche like sonic hey sonic yelped i thought you loved me crif sonic was hurt because crif was his best friend and he really loved him a lot more than he would any other man we have a special bond sonic but unlike you i am not a fag and i dont suck eggmans cock oh no you still remember that sonic replied saidly unlike fags like you i love fucking women and you are a shitty cock sucker anyway i wouldnt be able to cum anyway because you are terrible at oral sex unlike your sister the genes must have skipped a generation i bet sonic was hurt this was his best friend openly ridiculing him and he was pissed because his whole life was based on loving crif and therefore his life was now meaningless soft desires and pale flesh meant nothing to archibald jeffs as he grinned with sickening pleasure soon the machine would be complete and the great elder god gochagoth would descend upon the shining city of gold el dorado in such an occasion the great warlock malfactoruis would be present and archibald was gleaming with joy as his lifes work would ripen and fall off the apple tree of destiny thus the outspoken archmagus would see the great gochagoth rise with insurmantable power and devour the ferocious sea and the ancient mariner to boot and thus each would rise to the occasion four times fifty living men and i heard nor sigh nor groan with a heavy thump a lifeless lump they dropped down one by one it was evening and archibald was reading the poem which had infuriated him the most more than whitmans song of myself which gave off the impression of forced suicide through the swallowing of cyanide pills in order to weaken the desire that his heart panged for the lost loves of his past of how they were reflected in whitmans virtuous imagery and yet this was not a song of the open road but rather that of gochagoth the elder god of poetry first summoned from hell by whitman in the late 19th century in the lost manuscripts when whitman was undergoing his violently erotic emo phase yet under the lifeless moon that lie in the sky archibald was not afraid he knew that tiem would unravel itself eventually and the glowing cabooses of yesteryear would recover their former glory if not the entire union pacific company would fall to a earthy satanic grave engulfed by the pitful flames of hell and the childrens mocking cries of death and satisfaction this was the winter of his discontent and if it werent for the ever nearing return of gochogath the elder god of the union pacific company he would have committed suicide immediately shakespeare was not the man for archibald neither his poetry nor prose spoke to his yearning soul yet under that full moon archibald was transformed he himself could not realize the full potential that othello brought to his weary grave that macbeth dug for his ghastly corpse a wound inflicted by that of macbeth himself for he was no more than banquo in this tragedy of fools and he played the part quite well for if the role played out true he would be banquo to gochagoths macbeth a despiciable end to a bloody tyrant of magic and science indeed yet at the same time archibald found himself shrouded with deathly love a desire not totally lost to his empty soul for as he yearned so for the final reckoning he could not bear to love his love of his sweet lotte for she as the most wonderful woman in the world would soon be torn to shreds by his decietful play as hawthorne was torn to shreds by his puritan lineage through salem in that house of seven gables yet this was no scarlet letter and he was no banquo and therefore macbeth cruel display of tyrany for a single title was naught more than a pipedream archibald sighed under the enormous pressure tomorrow was the awakening and he could only think of the albatross strung around his neck in a shallow form of repentance and yet he could not cry because he was torn by the grief of another the lone girl who had lost her parents and could not call herself to be another lover for him for she was distraught beyond measure and thus archibald found himsefl pitying his redundant lifestyle why would and eveil man need and evil god he was an evil god on his own and did not desire to destroy what he loved through foolish actions yet it was too late gochagoth came tonight and he was alone in this torn reality surely he could draw up another course of action to recover from this blight upon humanity but alas he was merely a shepard meant to lead his flock towards a false sense of security where he woudl reveal his true wolfish identity and devour the flock whole and this he was devoured by his own greed as gochagoth appeared and swallowed his soul whole similar to the way a drain swallows the water and it undergoes its futile whirlpooling and his soul would react similar to the milk swallowed by a child during recess a fitting death nonetheless gochagoth let out an agonizing animalistic cry and he barraged reality with his complete disregard for safety and soon he had the military on his heels but manmade weapons have no place in a utopian society and thus gochagoth eliminated the threat without conflict merely opening a dimensional wormhole and eschewing the military vehicles from existence truly a frightening experience being wiped from the slate of existence as you are pulled apart by a variety of dimensions all vying to house your various limbs thus it had an effect similar to that of being pulled apart by four horses only much faster and with greater vivacity than that of a noble steed that is how our heroes found themselves in this predicament sonic was disavowing all responsibility and his sister was already 8 months pregnant with eggmans babies so crif found himself as the only viable option to save reality i am sorry sonics sister but i am the only hope for this world as sonic is no longer a true man merely a faggot who cannot stick up for his own values so i am off to save the world and most importantly you so that the babies may live in peace and not have to be subject to a daemon god with great dispair brought upon them he apologized for the mistakes he made in his past and atoned for this sins in the end it was not a battle between he and gochagoth but he and himself crif had to realize that he was not a tragic badass hero who was meant to die in a valiant blaze of glory but that he was merely a pawn in societys flaws and in reality he was a down on his luck hedgehog who couldnt realize that he was not gods son but the son of a poor immigrant who came from mobius to ensure a better life for his children but instead only found further suffering and underwent a downward spiral where he finally ended it all by hanging himself from a bridge his son had not learned these lessons and this was to die a pitiful lonely death for his grave misunderstanding of not only human life but his misguided desires and unwholesome attitude towards life as crif readied himself to attack gochagoth the god merely stared into his face with the eyes of death they were not menacing but rather soft and weary the resounding glance shaved off ages from crifs life and he collapsed to the ground an elderly man on the verge of death in those eyes he had seen his fate the fate of his father and readily accepted the results thus crif wasted away alone and he fully understood thus in reality the event never occured archibald never summoned gochagoth because he was an insane lunatic who believed old myths and readily dreamt of ficticious realms where he was what he believed he was and while he drooled strung up in his straightjacket the entire reality we had come to know was merely a plot dreamt up by this man sonic was not real neither was crif or sonics sister they were all stock characters that could be manipulated by the poor old mans rotting mind as he rocked back and forth in his padded room he never read whitman nor any work of prose or poetry but merely immagined that he did mobius was not a real place and neither was the rotund eggman as a matter of fact archibald was not his true name but merely what he wished to be called his true name was naoto oshima the man who originally created the sonic characters and as he grew senile he began to imagine they existed thus he was incarcerated in arkham asylum with his cohort the riddler who was the main programmer for the sonic series and played an integral role in the production of sonic 2006 as the chief ruler of the corporate think tank known as sonic team which was a subsidiary of the sega company which was actually a ruse as the sega company was truly the pentagons branch of mindwashing tools such as the reality simulator by the name of shenmue in which millions of innocent souls were trapped in a virtual reality but to them it was real and there was no outside world only yokosuka and in truth they were never able to leave the yokosuka area in the virtual reality not even able to go to china to defeat lan di as they could not know the truth that lan di was actually jimmy carter and he was the one who stole their souls put them in the codename shenmue virtual reality project and then proceded to analy rape their father as they could only watch in pain until after he died from the rupturing of his prostate thus in the end sega was merely a conglomerate in charge of ruling the virtual reality world whereas the actual reality was destroyed and in a wartorn 1984 style state and there was nothing much more to do than boost citizens morale with fantastic stories of a hedgehog who moved up and beyond the terrible conditions of his society in order to not only save his entire world but himself as well a moral story that vieled a corrupt and immoral society that could not twist the shape of reality any longer and thus the bombs were dropped over the entire world and naoto oshima the riddler and steve perry were all sent to be instituationalized and they began to go insane and believe the stories were true thus the fork in the road is sought and there naoto oshima woudl be given the chance to choose either the red pill or the blue pill and in his own self destuctive behavior he would choose the red pill and reality itself would rewind...

one day sonic was walking along but then all of a sudden a giant airplane flew out of the ground and he was all "ldkfchmaghcofrgh!111!1!1" and then he blew the shit up and oh my god xpplosion eveyrywhere and oh no gah my balls hurt oh no why did you kick them steve oh lord dicks I need a bandaid oh shit they are blleding and fkdhfkasdhgkhsg hrkgheklhlskdhf ceir cock

in the next paragraph wer see amy shes pretty hot today with her doubl g breasts cups and her pussy was mega wet from the friction betwen her legs and stuff my lord is my anger rising sayed sonic looking at her fat bewbs 'ur so hot amiee' he said but then he looked down and he saw her massive CANKLES1111111111!111!11!111!1! OH MY GOD THEY WERE HUGE SONIC SAID IN A LOUD SOUND

amiee throw him to the ground he he tried to sturggled but she put him ina sizcor leg lock between her massive cankles and squezed the fight out of him oh no shouted sonci i am going to die no your arent goign to die amiee say i am going to make you rape me

oh no i dont want to rape you i dont want to caus truble wiht the police oh no augh but before he coud continue she shofed her meega loarge cock into his mouff and he betcame to scream rel loudly but it wuz muffld becuz the cock was in his moth

oh no sinic i am going to cuum she said ah and she pulled out and seminy lickiasudas got all ovur sonics fac and he was screaming becauz it wuding stop oh no stop aughhh skfhal ples stop osjf but it was too late becuyz it already entyers his vagine threw the insider and impreganted with wiht cankle babez ah my god sinic shouted plz stop i am gin die becuase i has no vagine and the baby cannet escep but it wuz to late and sinic diyed becuz he brew up

chapter; 5647 iz a fnni # lol

sinci wuz ded but amiee was stil horne and neede some1 to fuck over lol

tails walked by and he was all omg wtf sinic u ded but aimee loled and was all rap me ales and she grabd hiz vagine and shovd hur hend in it but lol sinic wuznt ded and he tok hes manvagine end likd it hurd aimee wuz stil ging strung wen robutnsihasoc ssdjiasjd came al ovur hur fac lol nd sinic wuz abut too du stuf but den eggnim whipd out hus massve cock nd slapd sinic wiff it nd he brew up agen lol

chaptur~ duh i furget lol

eggnim brew uh da wrald

dur ind 


	5. Chapter 5

And this was where our story began. The name is Boom, I'm what you would call an OC, original character,  
thought up by a fan who is so into a franchise that they either make their own characters for "what if"  
situations or insert themselves. Both are terrible ideas of actually writing a story, and I am fond of neither when it comes to actually writing a story.

It takes a childish mind or a complete jackass to write a story such as this, an entire assault on the canon of a franchise, yet here I am, forced in by my bastard creator. In the end, it really doesn't matter to me, it would have happened sooner or later.

The main issue here is that the fucker who wrote this story propelled himself into a predictable fanfic corner. He rewound time in order to escape it, but in reality, rewinding it only caused it to completely fuck itself over and end up ina cycle with sonic interrupted by the plane and the entire story starting anew.

Cliff died, but if the reader actually tried to dechiper the last chapter, they would have noticed that Gocha'goth aged him to death just by staring into his eyes. Frightful, eh? Not really, all he was doing was relying on bullshit fiction tropes because he really doesn't give two shits about this story.

That is why I come in. The author turntable rotated and now the second writer, he who will provide the second arc, one that will be legible, will step up. I am his creation, and this is his interpretation of the story. Actually, this is the third writer. The second lent his abilities for Chapter 4.

So, unless you're a judgemental idiot (read: Infinity Warrior) who read the first chapter and expected the rest to follow suit, enjoy whatever is left of your sanity, because the real shit is about to arrive.

It was a cold June day when Boom arrived. Sonic was dead slumped over in the corner, his wrists slit vertically, or "down the street" as some morbid afficienatos might suggest. His sister was noticeably at least 7 months pregnant with Eggman's children. One glance at the sickening sight would bring any healthy man up to his knees in vomit. The rest of the woodland creatures were strung around the room,  
most chopped into pieces. Knuckle's dismembered hands lay beneath the grandfather clock, and Tails' feet were scattered like a deck of playing cards across the table.

Morbid fascination led Boom to toss the bits and pieces around as if they were just softballs. He admired the work. Sonic killed himself hours before the rest would be slaughtered, it saved Boom a few minutes of busywork. Such craftsmanship rivaled that of Micheangelo or even Da Vinci.

There was little reasoning behind his brash actions. Gocha'goth had completely decimated most of the planet, without harming as much as a marble pillar. He was moreso an angel of death than a gigantic warbeast meant to delapitate every building in sight. The greater injustice was that Boom was not able to kill on his own. Wherever he may tread, Gocha'goth spreads disease, and the swollen bodies line the streets, their throats dry as they linger on through a slow process of decay as they breathe. With every breath they rot. Inhale... Exhale. The putrid stentch covers the streets with a visible layer of odor,  
as the rats emerge from their hideaways beneath the concrete. Inhale... Exhale. Rotund fingers struggle to retain their form, instead ending up clenched in a fit of rage, invisible to the eye. Inhale... Exhale. Ado, Ado, dying breaths never stimulated the ear as softly as they did so today, in the mass extinction. Inhale... Exhale. The burial grounds loom, yet there are no undertakers present at this funeral. Alas, Alas, a cunning joke pollutes the air, morbid in context, grotesque in the implications.  
To-nite the world lie stagnant.

"Philosopher, is tonight the night?" "Indeed, death will play its part. Evil arises, and mortality is challenged. In the end naught remains,  
and we sit back, and enjoy the view from the garden terrace, sipping delicate wines as the future and the past collide. Never has death occurred on such a massive scale, it is truly one for the records."  
"Ah, philosopher, you speak so eloquently. Your flowery speak of intimate relations in the world besieges your true personality. Why, philosopher, are you blind?"  
"A knack, human anatomy bequethes that I must suffer under such indignant conditions. Do not fret, _,  
for the end will fall. We shall suffer a similar fate. Humanity itself must be wiped clean, the slate shattered, so that our majestic and frightening powers manifest themselves and come to fruitition. For the greater glory of God."  
"Why, philiospher, do you speak in such tougnes? Your language is incomprehensible, you supply words that have no double meaning, and therefore are not contextually correct. I am positioned to believe you are a mountebank, a decieving old man who speaks in these tounges to confuse and bewilder."  
"Great meaning has this universe, yet we cannot grasp it my child. The end is near, I am lost. We, are lost. So we sail adrift, across these cosmic seas, until we discover our truth, the truth of our people."  
"Why, philosopher, do you stumble? You falsify you body, induce physical weakness upon yourself, for what gain? Knowledge?"  
"It is this day that I am troubled, _, hate flows from within, to release itself, release the steam that drives the sane man mad. I am, I am, I am."  
"Why, philosopher, are you so pessimistic? You are blind, you cannot see life the way it is, so you must put on a depressive attitutde. Open your eyes! See the truth, philosopher!"  
"I am afraid my time is up, _, behold the presence of He who Am, I am, I am, I am, I am, I am..."  
"Why, philosopher, do you rot? The stench you emit is grotesque, yet I am fascinated by the oblong textures and the putrid coloring. I am attracted by your mere imperfection in death. Philosopher, you are incomplete, you rot slowly for you cannot withstand your own ineptitude. You coninually reassure yourself that fault does not lean upon you, that it is the world for it is imperfect and impure. You are pessmistic through and through for you cannot comprehend the reality of the world and are trapped in a dreamworld. Your "philosophy" is decrepit, and your "beliefs" are childish."  
"_, will you not rot? We are to die for He Who Am, I am, I am, I am, I am, I am..."  
"Philosopher, I shall not rot. I see the truth in reality. I am not swayed by misinterpreted feelings lost inside myself. I am wholesome."  
"_, the truth is fading, I am wrong, I am wrong, I am wrong, I am wrong, I am wro-"

The trance dissipated. Boom was alone. Not even Sonic's sister remained, and Eggman's babies were not yet virile.  
"You were muttering again," echoed a voice from the hallway. "The Philosopher is dead, yet you continually relive the moments. Perhaps you should have that checked out."  
"I'd rather not, the last doctor around has some seedly credentials. Even though most of humanity is dead, I'd rather not hang around with a axe-crazy bastard who wears no pants when he practices medicine."

Randerfelt was possibly the brightest doctor to still exist after the cataclysm; however, he was a strict Neo-Nazi, and encouraged public executions of "lesser beings," as he put it.

"'Hey, how about we gas those motherfucking jews and blacks? I've got a hankering for Jew Stew and I got my saws and crockpot ready!' Hardly describes a sane man to me, Griffin."

"Have it your way Boom, I'll just have you know that as a black man, I am certainly not afraid of Randerfelt cutting me open, as long as it's what I want of course." Griffin replied in a rather quaint tone.

"Don't bullshit me, I heard him plan on taking out your internal organs one by one every time he cuts you up. That doesn't scream sane in my opinion."

The sound of Griffith steadly storming away rung throughout the room. Vomit followed. 


	6. Chapter of the Absurd

There is a period of psychoanalysis where the brain goes numb lost in a sort of subconscious frolicking through the meadow in your mind. It is not ordinary, but a bizarre gift from beyond. As absurd as it sounds, it exists, and reality is nothing more than a coma in which all of society has befallen. There is no truth, only the absurd, illogical "reality" man is forcefed through tubes sewn into their spinal cord.

Once locked away, the mind perceives no faults, no tricks. It is all a wasteland of empty, minimalist prose.

A blank, flat, white room lies ahead. A chair sits in one corner, a testament to all that is hell in this dimension. Your muscles tense up as you attempt to sit, but you cannot.

You have forgotten. In fact, your mind is a blank slate. No linguistic skills, just grunts and occasional utterances you do not understand. You know how to move your body and breathe, but that is about it.

Preturbed, you continue further. The scene changes: a street, filled with decayed corpses and those in the process of decaying. You turn to the lopsided trashcan and peer inside.

You are back inside the white room. There is no escape this time. You chew your fingernails anxiously, unaware of your sophisticated actions.

We arrive in the back of the room, behind you. We are carrying what appears to be a long, white stretcher, only, as is grows closer, a bloody spot forms on the white canvas. It fluctuates constantly, like the mask of that man in that book we read with you.

Stretched out on the canvas stretcher, you drift down into the spot, thrown into another reality. This is where He walks up to us and we shout to you in unintellegible gibberish, but,  
alas, it is too late. We are torn to shreds by a grave miscalculation. The wash was meant to be taken out to dry, but we forgot.

Therefore, you are lost, and he still lurks in the world above.

Griffith enteres the room, and he turnes to you in surprise.  
"Oh, it's you again. Glad we saw each other. Boom is dead, and Randerfelt and myself are about to embark on this perennial quest to find some gem that has some ridiculous powers. I really don't understand it, but he told me it was a crucial plot point, otherwise we'll have to change our names, run away to Canada, and get married. Guess who groom is going to be. Yeah, me.  
Randerfelt always seemed kind of fruity, so I guess it's better to know that he is gay than have the concept looming over us unsolved, right?"

Griffith stands up.

"Alright, I'm heading back to reality, enjoy the closet world. Be sure to call me when you decide to come out. Later."

You stand up and watch him leave. You are gorwing content with this dimension, so you decide to slumber amongst the trees. Of course, there are no trees, but you are crazy enough by now to believe they are there.

Just then 


	7. Chapter 7

Flower girls play lover  
Grave games in the courtyard  
I heard her screaming like a radio

Flower girls play lover  
Grave games in the courtyard  
I heard her screaming like a radio

Mary lou left marks on you  
She just screams at the walls  
The kite string pops  
I'm swallowed whole by the sky  
We smoke the bones of baby dolls  
Techno-liquid screaming meat  
Heaven's cold beneath my feet  
Cyber love the anti-man we make love... because we can

Virgins play where the bayou's blue  
Barefoot (and bloody) eatin' mushroom stew  
Work for pay and pay for freedom  
Fuck 'em all, we don't need 'em  
We smoke the bones of baby dolls

Everything's gone dry  
Like bottle glass scraping cross the pavement  
Everything's gone dry  
Like bottle glass scraping cross the pavement  
Everything's gone dry  
Like bottle glass scraping cross the pavement  
Everything's gone dry  
Like bottle glass scraping cross the pavement

~Dax Riggs


	8. Crucifixion

The sun rose above the dilapidated outhouse and the dew twinkled in the dawn's bright light.  
The great castle of his mind shattered under the weight of transcendant reality and he returned to relative obscurity. His fate was no greater than that of any man, but he knew it well.

Randerfelt stood rigid on the cliff, surveying the land before them. This meadow was the new frontier, certinately they could create a better future. Unfortunately, Randerfelt was the only one left. The other man possessed little importance in this story, so he died.

A great spirit made itself present before the wanderer.

Speaking of distant lands and obtuse relationships between the metaphysical and the philosopical, it draws Randerfelt into a doze, a quiet slumber of unmistakable consequence.

Drawn out from hiding, he awakes, lost in a sea of shadows, a disaster of proportions magnified by constant placidity.

"But be aware young Randerfelt, this slumbering giant shall awake in due time."  
The spirit calls from an empty casket, filled to the brim with the blood of his ancestors,  
no more dry than the liquid of one's eye.  
Randerfelt registers with the speed of a sloth, widening his eyes in madness as the blood drains into the sky above, drawn like an electrical current from the socket of his eye.

Lost confusions surround Randerfelt as he slowly grows weary, almost mad, if were not already so.

"It is the Jews! They are harrassing my mind and my soul!" He cried out in disgust. "You, spirit, are the manifestation of pure filth, a mockery to the human race! You are dead for a reason! Do not haunt the living, especially those superior to you!"

"Randerfelt, you are a sinner, you are a whore, you are a wretched messaiah, only fit to hang on your own cross built from the sweat of your forefathers and descendants. You shall be crucified on the lawn of your slain SS father and the perfectly manicured blades of green shall wilt when your cursed blood drips from your visceral wounds. The blood shall irrigate the crops, and cause mass famine within the world, that unlike there had been beforehand.  
You cursed blood shall render the land bare, and all seeds sown in the lands shall not grow,  
but resurface, refusing to even release their roots. This drought shall affect all, and no land shall be spared."

With that, the spirit dissipated, leaving Randerfelt to writhe on the floor in complete dismay.  
Upon rising, he found himself on a kempt lawn, as vivid as the wild Kentucky Bluegrass.

Before him stood the most groteqsue image he had seen in his life.

A grand cross, twelve feet in height compiled of muscle and skin. It was a cross built from the blood, sweat, tears, and bodies of those who built it, neatly compacted so that the individuals were fused together seamlessly. Carefully examining it, he noticed that they were his forefathers and descendants, all as it was foretold. The grass at the base was withering away, from the blood that dripped from the bodies of the slain.

Randerfelt fell to his knees at the sight. He grew sick and weak, and watched as his body began to dissolve away. The poison had continued to plague his mind, and he soon found himself falling apart, his skin being eaten away as if a caustic acid had been thrown on his arms,  
erroding the afflicted surfaces.

He blinked for a split second, and when his eyes reopened he was stripped naked and hanging from the cross of the plague. Blood spilt from his erroding limbs, from the cavaties left over from the agonizing disease.

A young man began to hammer away at the cross, stringing together an efficient obituary.

"Randerfelt was a Nazi. Randerfelt killed and ate the persecuted. Randefelt was a cursed,  
filthy soul. Randerfelt's demise shall be exhalted by the heavens from hereon."

The young man stood up a wiped the sweat from his brow. He stared up at Randerfelt and cried:  
"Hallelujah! The sinner is dead!"

Randerfelt's blood covered the soil and the lawn decayed.

No lawn shall ever be perfect from this point forward. The crops shall wilt and the skies will no longer cry. The seeds of vengeance have been sown, but they shall not release their roots,  
but return to the surface to spite the sinners. 


	9. Tantalian

Sunny skies lit the day as Marcus walked home. It was 7 PM and he was not sure of what he would do when he reached his apartment. In drawing a current from the electrical field, he understood that he could polarize negative fields beyond the mortal world. Like saccharin sprinkled desserts being ingested by children, he knew not of the posions on his articfically sweetened world. If anything, what made his life so miserable was the fact he had none to start with. He was a hatchling shunned by it's parents. There was no escape from the constant irreality that plagued his microscopic and non-toxic Play-doh mind. He was a play dough baby to begin with. Not literally of course. He was a mishappened attempt that the perfect manmade child, and his sickening stomach did not tell that tale truthfully.

Reaching home, he decided to not bother with the lock. No one would rob him. He was useless and weak. He owned nothing of value. Picture a black slate transferred into a three dimensional field. In theory, it should change to fit the new dimensional reality, but in truth it still was a black surface. The only difference was that it was seen from a different perspective. Marcus often decided that he should view life from a different perspective, but it evaded him so.

Imagine a shift.

Now there is a portly gentleman sitting on a couch in a dank room. There is an awkward drone piercing his ears, but he is deaf. Despite the fact that he is deaf, the drone still lingers inside. In reality, the drone is all a figment of the imagination. He is deaf, thus there is no sound, but he still hears it anyway. The drone actually resides inside his mind. Imagine what an empty head sounds like. One can hear nothing from the outside so they instead focus on the deep beats and rhythms of what is inside. However, there are no beats or rhythms because the mind is nothing but blank matter in this situation. Therefore, the only sound that appears is the sound of blank matter, or a drone. Is it the sound of nothing or the sound of everything? It is a question that recedes as the tide rises and rises when the tide recedes.  
The answer is everything and nothing.

And so the journey continues.

As Marcus winded down, he turned to his empty apartment and approached his window. Sitting on the bare cement floor, he gazes out the window to the world before him.

Children on the sidewalk chasing a balloon they understand they will never reach.

Marcus opened the window and felt the breeze cool his frayed nerves.

The sound of chimes in the summer breeze.

Marcus turned towards the window and expressed discontent at what he saw.

The children had caught the balloon and began to leave the scene.

They had broken the rules.

All things must stay in one spot. People must not attain what they desire.

Young adults trying to knock a frisbee from a tree An elderly man waiting for mail he will never recieve A woman vomiting into a toilet without rest Marcus staring out a window into a world he hopes to leave

They all play a game, one of constant misery. No end in sight, no path out of hell.

In a pot, mystic water boils. The pot just appeared, and Marcus eyed it keenly. There was nothing more interesting than a new object in the world. Things often appeared randomly, as if divine will intervened in order to play a childish game with the inhabitants. It seemed as if Marcus was the only person who found these. Everyone else was too busy trying to attain the unattainable. Marcus was relatively free. He, unlike everyone else, had given up on attaining reality and truth, so he began to recieve items now and then.

He lifted the pot to his mouth and the water burned his mouth horribly. Feeling his face, it had shifted. The surface was no longer smooth, but rippled and burst. The water was too hot to drink, and now it was spilled. A wasted moment to part from his reality, Marcus turned away, this time towards the south wall.

Perched on the wall was a withering photograph, the truth painted on canvas. It depicted a sad clown. His cheerful bow and ridicuously sized hat juxtaposed the depressed expression.  
Like a child, Marcus was drawn to the clown out of strange curiosity. He reached out for the painting, and when he held it, he noticed that the paint was not dry.

Now gurried, he began to wipe it all away, unaware at the mess that covered his clothing as he did so. Underneath the painting was his face. He was the depressed clown. He was sad and he wanted to die, but he knew the show must go on, so he dressed as he should and went out to perform. The clown is Pagliaccio and Marcus himself is Canio, and he cannot quit, for it must continue.

Marcus returned to his window, but as he did so, a call came from below. He looked down and there stood a woman he had never seen before. She beckoned him down, but he knew he could not do so, lest he fall from the window.

"What is it?" The woman asks, puzzled at his hesitation.

Marcus stared down, but did not respond. He could not. He did not talk. No one did. They did not understand. Talking, like most things, was an unattainable dream. They could sit with a book for hours and attempt to recite poetry, but it did not come out right. Instead of reciting the lines, they uttered bizarre and unintellegible phrases that sounded like they could only gurgle their words, not enunciate them.

The woman disappeared, and Marcus' expression became that of fear. He was confused and uncomfortable, and he would rather not go through this situation.

"What is it?" the voice questioned from behind.

He squealed in fear and stumbled backwards, through the window. A branch of a nearby tree caught him, but it did not ease his anxiety. The woman stared down at him from the window and outstretched her hand.

"What is it?"

She was like a hologram, a recorded message meant to bother him and lead him into a pit of misery, like all other things that appeared in his appartment. The tree was beginning to snap.  
It was not the branch, but the trunk that was cracking. He could do nothing at this moment.

Chimes rattled in the distance.

Marcus fell from the tree, landing on his head.

Her died, yet he attained the unattainable. Yes, Marcus lost his life and he never could see a better furture physically, but in reality it was what he desired.

"Young adults trying to knock a frisbee from a tree An elderly man waiting for mail he will never recieve A woman vomiting into a toilet without rest Marcus staring out a window into a world he hopes to leave"

Marcus left the world. 


End file.
